


Escaping Runeterra

by T_C



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Jumanji but it's League of Legends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:06:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21734473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/T_C/pseuds/T_C
Summary: If Jumanji were Runeterra, what would G2 have to do to escape?Scrimming for LEC has never been so intense.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	1. Champion Select

December 2019. Time to start all over again. Though the boys were happy to be back together in Berlin again, they knew what that meant - back to long days of scrimming and putting pressure on themselves to become even better day by day.

Of course they were proud of their achievement at Season 9 Worlds, but were they happy with it? Not as happy as they could have been.

Still, as they sat down at their computers one by one and logged in to start practicing on solo queue, it was as if they’d never been away.

The good thing about being part of G2 was that the boys didn’t feel like meta-slaves. The coaching staff, Carlos and the fans loved to see them playing whatever made them happy. So Mihael smirked as he locked in Malphite support and rolled his head to the side to watch Luka’s exaggerated exasperated expression, which was quickly replaced with laughter from both of them and, as they loaded into game, the distant sound of Marcin’s screaming could be heard as he realised he was about to be tortured by his botlane on the enemy team.

By 1pm when it was time for scrims, Rasmus had already managed to fit in 5 solo queue games with his early start being eager to get back in action. Martin on the other hand had only just managed to pull himself from bed and back into the real world.  
Little did they all know, they would be all be returned to a dream-like situation much before they went to bed that night.

Fabian greeted the 4 present players who were all still in various stages of their games and thus responded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Marcin was the first to fully acknowledge Fabian when he entered the room after finishing his game.

“Oh, not you. You’re here already? It’s too early to see your face.”

“Jankos, it’s actually gone 1pm. You’re all already missing your first scrim block.”

Reluctantly, Jankos took a seat on the couch and they not-so-patiently waited for the other players to finish up their games, silently staring each other down in mock hatred.

Half an hour later than they should have been, everyone was ready and in champion select for their first scrim of the upcoming Season. It was against Rogue and was a game that Fabian had already told the boys countless times that afternoon was not to be played ‘for fun’ - not that they really listened to him anyway - and a fact that he restated for them as he started to leave the room.

Marcin’s response? Eloquent as ever, “SHUT UP, GRAAAAAAAAABBZ.” Chuckling, he looked to his right to see Martin with a smile on his face, surveying their champion picks against those of Rogue.

Martin shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. He stretched his legs out in front of him before placing them back firmly on the floor. Except they wouldn’t reach. Frowning slightly, he shifted again but his long legs no longer made contact with the floor. Shrugging it off as a prank from one of the other guys adjusting his chair, he pulled the height lever, but as the chair dropped by a fair few inches, his feet still didn’t find the ground. He brought his hands up to the arm rests, pulling himself up and moving his bum to the back of the chair, which suddenly seemed a lot bigger. He let out a yelp upon seeing his once hairy arms now far more… furry. Confused, he looked down the row of his teammate's computers to see that they were no longer present. Watching his loading counter hit 100%, he felt himself leave his chair completely as he heard the summoning tone.


	2. Botlane Lovebirds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //I've never looked into League this closely before, but I tried to go on what I could find! There were no mentions of an Elder Vastayan with a name, so that's made up but I believe that's the only thing!//

Mihael was confused. Scared, and very confused. He was no longer surrounded by the hum of computers in the gaming room, but the hum of something that felt a lot more… magical. Also, lots of trees.

Surveying his surroundings, he felt something tickle his calves and looked down to see a cloak of bright yellow feathers. He physically jumped at the sight of his feet which, let’s be honest, nobody’s feet were beautiful - but most humans at least had five toes rather than three claws. His cloak fluttered as he touched the ground again leaving an even more confusing thought in his mind.

Focussing his energy on his back, he clenched his shoulder muscles and felt the feathers graze against his legs again.

 _Not a cloak._ _I’ve got wings!_ He chuckled and shook his head, flicking a strand of platinum blond hair from his eyes. This was either a very well-thought out prank, or a very realistic dream.

“Please be a dream, please be a dream.” He repeated aloud over and over as his looked down at his body to see himself wearing an all too familiar get up that certainly did not come from his wardrobe.

A loud noise filled the air and Mihael instinctively dashed a few metres to the right of where he had previously been standing. Registering the sound as the spawning effect from the game he was supposed to be playing, he looked into the air and saw a bundle of purple hurtling towards him. Putting his arms out to catch the falling being, he had a strange feeling in his stomach that he knew what was about to happen.

The small female looked up at him, her eyes showing as much shock as he felt as she pushed him away and brushed herself off.

“I’ve had dreams about League before, but never about a support,” she spoke nonchalantly, and as soon as the words left her lips and her expression dropped, Mihael knew his gut instinct was right. “What the fuck is going on? Why do I sound like a girl?”

Mihael bit his lip and decided to torment his botlane partner for a little bit, “What do you mean? You are a girl.“

Luka’s thought process followed the same route as Mihael had moments previous.

“Something’s wrong here, why am I dressed like Xayah?“

“What do you mean ‘dressed like Xayah’? You are Xayah.“

“No, no, this is just my brain being weird. This must be what happens when I watch too much of Miky’s weeb shit.”

“It’s not shit,” Mihael mumbled under his breath, earning a quirked brow from Luka.

“What did you say?“

“N-Nothing-”

“I’m a fucking bird woman, you think my hearing is bad? Look at the size of these ears, Miky!” Luka spat, flicking one of the pointy ears atop of his head. “What is this?“

Mihael finally dropped the act and just shook his head, “I’m as confused as you are. Supposed to be scrimming for our career right now but instead we’re cosplaying birds in a forest. Not exactly the most ideal situation.“

“You’re telling me,” Luka grunted, tousling with his feathers to try and get them to cover at least a modest amount of his body.

Luka felt something in his chest, and he could tell by the look on his face that Mihael felt it, too. Then he was off running, Mihael by his side, feet trampling in a sure way that they knew where they were going, even though the boys heads were not so sure. The uncertainty faded from Mihael’s body when they entered a clearing in which resided a giant tree stump. Luka, ever the master of mechanics rather than lore was still, himself, stumped.

“The God Willow.” Were the only words to pass Mihael’s lips before a bellowing voice announced another person’s presence in the clearing.

“Xayah!” Her name echoed through the trees. Mihael rushes to his lane partner’s side, as though Rakan was ready to protect Xayah from whoever dared to call her name.

Another avian Vastaya ambled in their direction, neither of the two recognised him, but a voice in the back of their heads brought forth the name ‘Elder Robus’.

“Xayah,” he repeated, her name leaving his lips more as an exasperated sigh, “How many times have I told you that violence isn’t the answer?”

Luka and Mihael silently exchanged a glance, causing Robus to roll his eyes, “Don’t play dumb, like you haven’t just come from terrorising the humans down by Azure Farms. I know that you blame the humans for what happened to the God WIllow-”

“But-“ started Luka.

“And,” continued Robus, “that you want to help restore Ionia to its former magical glory-”

“Actually-“ tried to interject Mihael.

“ _And_ that you want to return the Lhotlan Vastaya to our peak and help us flourish again, but fighting is not the way to do it.”

Luka was torn between knowing that humans weren’t all bad, and the bird voice in his mind telling him that humans were responsible for the downfall of Ionian magic. “Look, uh, Robus? We…get it… I think.”

“No, Xayah, I don’t think you do. We Elders understand your motivations, but we can no longer condone what it’s doing to the Vastaya. Take what happened down at Puboe. We thank you greatly for rescuing your kin, but it’s driven a wedge deeper between the community. We want you to leave.“

“Leave?” Mihael spluttered. Robus simply nodded, “Like, fend for ourselves?“

“Where are we supposed to go?” Added Luka, both of the boys afraid that they would be left for dead in the middle of a video game.

“There’s a place of wondrous magic far to the East, somewhere between Noxus and Freljord. They use it as a Field of Justice, I think it would be fitting for you two.”

“Freljord? That’s gonna be such a long walk,” groaned Luka before a hand covered his mouth.

“Did you say ‘Field of Justice’?” Mihael questioned, “Like a battleground?“

“Um, yes. I believe they call it ‘Summoner’s Rift’.”


	3. Just a Trickster

Rasmus opened his eyes to find himself floating. Not on water, but in space. He chuckled to himself and reached up to scratch the back of his head in slight puzzlement. _Strange_ , he thought, sure it had been a while since his last hair cut, but there was no way it was growing this fast. He grabbed a handful and pulled it over his shoulder, astounded to see long copper locks cascading far down his body. They trailed off, blending into the galaxy surrounding him and waved his arms in a quasi-swimming motion to aid him in floating around the vast space. Rasmus had never taken drugs, but he imagined this is what a trip would feel like. Realistic and relaxing, he acknowledged that he was in a deep and restful sleep, and resigned himself to enjoy the playful nature of Zoe while his dream lasted.

After a little while of space swimming, he noticed movement in the distance. Concentrating hard on trying to distinguish the shape, he suddenly found himself right beside a large galaxy dragon. Startled, Rasmus turned around to see a portal shut behind him. “Wow, this is really happening,” he muttered to himself, alerting the other being of his presence.

The “space doggy” as Rasmus’ mind was convincing him to call it, visibly rolled his eyes, “so you’ve returned to bug me?”

He was shocked to hear that deep, echoey voice seem so realistic, “uh, no!”

Aurelion blew air from his nose in a light chuckle, scattering new stardust particles into the atmosphere — well, what would have been the atmosphere had they not been in space. “Actually, you’re here, so you are bugging me.”

Rasmus smiled slightly, “well I was wondering if you could help me with that. I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Neither do I, but I wish I did. Sometimes I stare off into the universe and wonder why the Aspect chose you to terrorise me for the rest of time rather than a normal, slightly less annoying person.”

Rasmus frowned slightly, his lower lip quivering. Aurelion sighed and started to float away, causing Rasmus to grab his tail and clamber onto his back, “you don’t mean that, do you?” He asked.

“Yes, I do. But I guess you’re slowly starting to grow on me. Very slowly.”

Rasmus settled on Aurelion’s back, watching stars and planets fly past them, occasionally bugging the dragon with questions about the universe to appease his curiosity surrounding Runeterra.

“Why are you acting like you’ve never been to Runeterra before? I know it’s been millennia since your last visit, but you were born there.”

“I- uh-“ Rasmus struggled to find words.

“Just go visit, you’re starting to really bug me now with all your annoying small girl questions. And your hair is tickling my neck.”

“What do you mean ‘go visit’?”

“My dear Zoe,” Aurelion shook her off his back and sighed. Rasmus looked up at him, expecting a kind answer, but instead finding herself being flung through a portal and hurtling towards the ocean. Surely hitting freezing cold water at an immense speed would wake him up.

He felt pain as he hit the water, his vision going black as he felt himself floating once again. Was he back in space? A few seconds later, he bobbed to the surface, spluttering out water and gasping for air as he looked around.Not home, not back in his own body. Noticing a ship sailing in his directions, he began to yell and wave his hands. Though he couldn’t be sure what awaited him on the boat, nor where they were headed, he didn’t fancy the prospect of floating in Runeterran waters and becoming fishy food.

The crew of the boat seemed nice, Rasmus spent a while talking to them as he dried off. They answered many of his questions, while he was sure to answer very few of theres - after all, how was he supposed to explain how he ended up in the water? They explained how they were headed to Piltover from Ionia and that they had about another 5 days left of the journey. Rasmus wondered if Zoe wanted to go back to Mount Targon, and how if maybe he could get there, he would wake up.

Retiring down below from the deck, he spotted a map and started to plan his route from Piltover across Shurima and towards Mount Targon. It was going to be a long journey considering the magic in Shurima wasn’t strong enough for him to use Zoe’s powers as an Aspect.  
As the ship’s cook announced dinner, Rasmus made his way to a large communal eating area where two familiar figures caught his eye. He watched them as they eyed him from the other end of the table. Seeing Vastayans was not something he thought he would ever experience, maybe he could wiggle some more secrets out of them.

Rasmus approached the couple, skipping in his most Zoe-like manner and plopping himself down on a seat next to them, “I know you.”

“I don’t think so,” the female replied.

“Xayah and Rakan.”

Xayah narrowed her eyes, “Zoe.”

Rasmus racked his brain, would Zoe have ever visited Ionia? She had been around for millennia, it was possible, but would they have known her name? And so he asked, “how would you know me?”

The two exchanged glances before Rakan spoke up, “we’re not from around here.”

“Well, duh,” Rasmus replied, “none of us are from around here, we’re on a ship in the middle of the ocean.”

“You’re not from around here either, though,” Rakan adds. Rasmus shifted in his seat, did they know he wasn’t Zoe? No... if a big space dragon couldn’t figure it out, surely two bird people wouldn’t know, “if you’re Zoe, you’re from up there.”

Rasmus nodded. It wasn’t a lie. Technically he did fall from the sky even if that wasn’t what Rakan meant.

“Why are you travelling to Piltover then?” Rasmus questioned, curious as to why Vastayans would venture to Valoran.

“Mind your own business.” Xayah cuts him off, coldly. “You think we don’t know better than to keep our mouths closed around you, trickster?” Rasmus swallowed and stands up, muttering a quick goodbye before shuffling away, he wasn’t about to cross deadly bird lady.  
Shovelling his food down quickly before finding a bed to retire to, Rasmus lay down for the night, the gentle roll of the waves rocking him to sleep. He awoke in the middle of the night to violent whispering and crept out to see Xayah and Rakan sat by the map that he had been surveying earlier.

“What are we going to do about food?” Rakan asked.

“I guess I use my feathers to kill stuff?” Xayah replied.

“But, like, how will we cook it?”

“How should I know? Do I look like I’ve eaten wild animals before?” Rakan stared blankly, not willing to voice his opinion which was obviously ‘ _yes_ ’.

“Can’t we just fly, it’s gonna be so long to walk,” the male groaned.

“Do you think we can fly that far, Miky? No, you’re too heavy.”

“Miky?” Rasmus whispered aloud, followed by a shriek as a feather went flying into the wood of the ship next to him. The two Vastayans now had their eyes trained on him.

“What did you hear?” Xayah questioned, sounding like she was about to start an interrogation.

“Why are you planning to travel the entire breadth of Runeterra?” Rasmus countered with a query of his own.

“To get out of here.” Answered Rakan, earning himself an elbow in the ribs and glare from his female companion.

“Get out of here how? And why did Xayah call you Miky?”

Xayah rolled her eyes, “we’re not Xayah and Rakan. We’re gamers that play them and we’re stuck here.”

Rasmus’ mouth fell agape, “Luka and Miky?” His voice came out about an octave and a half higher than normal - and considering he already had the voice of a pre-pubescent female, it was basically deafening.

Luka lifted a brow, “and you are?”

He settled himself cross-legged on the ground in front of his botlane, processing the information, “it’s me, Rasmus.”  
Mihael’s face lit up, glad to share their predicament with another team member. Luka, however, was not as excited. Five days trapped on a boat with Rasmus would be bad, but five days trapped on a boat with Rasmus as _ZOE_? It was going to be... fun to try and control Xayah’s outbursts.


	4. A Quest Fit For A Queen

Marcin’s first acknowledgement, as he sat on a sofa five times his size in a room far larger than the computer room in their apartment, was that he had breasts. Quite nice breasts at that.  
He looked around and stretched himself out on the sofa, noticing that his entire body proportions were off and he was wearing a skin tight black and red body suit that he certainly wouldn’t have worn unless he had been given a substantial amount of money. Then again, considering the size of the room he was currently in, maybe he had struck fortune. Settling into the sofa and fantasising about his now-rich life, he fidgeted as something dug into his back. Turning onto his other side, he found the same thing happened. He frowned and sat up, rubbing his back and quickly retracting his hand, horrified. He rushed to a mirror atop of the fireplace and saw that not only did he now have breasts, but arachnid appendages poking from his midsection. A hand shot to his face- no, not his- and he screamed, not his soul-shattering scream, but more of a piercing shriek. He tried to calm himself, staring into eyes that didn’t belong to him but that he could see through. He knew who he was supposed to be, but how? What had happened?  
Possibly more timidly than he had ever walked before, he stepped outside the room he had been in into a large hallway. Calling out to no reply, he figured he was probably alone inside a house bigger than he had ever been in before.

If this were a dream, which was the most likely explanation, he would just wait out his morning alarm and enjoy the luxury while it lasted. Or so he thought.  
About a week into lazing around his new dwelling, Marcin was becoming restless. There were only so many new rooms to explore, and the novelty of being able to scream without being yelled at was starting to wear off. Every day that he woke up in a bed that was not his, it looked more and more likely that he may never wake up in Berlin again. And so on the eighth morning, Marcin decided that he was going to venture out, to see what was beyond the estate. As he pulled a coat on to cover his extra legs, he was startled by the sound of a phone ringing. Following it to a corner of the main hallway, he stared, stunned, at the contraption before him. A large black telephone looking like something from decades ago, wired into the wall.

“What is this? The 1970s?“ he joked to himself before picking up the receiver.

“Lady Elise,” came the voice from the other end, “I trust you are well. The Pale Woman has requested to see you. Please come to us at your soonest convenience.”

Marcin was unsure of what to say, and so he just hung up the phone, hugging the coat tightly around him before bracing himself for the outside world. A voice in the back of his head told him that something wasn’t right - that the Pale Woman was never the one to request meetings, not that he was truly aware what they would be meeting for anyway. He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath of not-so-fresh Noxian air, but as a gamer he was used to stale air. He let his more human legs guide him in the direction they thought he should be headed, down into the seedy city centre where hushed whispers and sly glances made Marcin wrap his coat tighter and pull up his collar.

It was as he ventured into the shadowier streets that he first noticed a vaguely familiar symbol, that of a black rose. He followed the path, finding a few more hand-painted sigils before ducking under a small archway between two buildings and walking a short way along an alley. To his left, a rotting wooden door kept slightly ajar by a crumbling brick beckoned him, the soft glow of a torch lighting its opening. Through the door, he followed the dim light cast by the flames down some stairs and along a pathway, crushing cockroaches beneath his feet and sending large rats scarpering deeper into the shadows, until he came across another door bearing the rose mark. He slipped inside, finally shrugging off his coat and dragging his along the floor behind him.

“Lady Elise, you came,” echoed a soft but commanding voice from across the room, “oh, and you’re so bare and vulnerable. I’ve never seen you without your veil this long since your last expedition to the Isles.” 

Marcin’s brow furrowed, yet he played along, “who is to see me in the dark? And I trust you are to send me on my next trip.”

“Now now, Mistress Zaavan, you know that’s not how our deal usually works.”

“Hence why I am intrigued as to your call.”

The lady across the room shifted, moonlight falling onto and reflecting from her pale skin, “much as I pay you with my followers for your trips, it would seem I am falling short of men.”

“I believe the fault there lies on your side of the pact, so why summon me to walk the streets for your shortcomings?” The words left Marcin’s mouth before his own brain could even think of them.

“If it were not for your uses, there would be no pact at all and I would leave you to rot in your abode,” The woman’s voice was no longer soft, “I trust you value your beauty, and as such if you wish it to continue, you shall search for a new souvenir now. I do not ask much of you, Lady Elise, you would be wise to accept this addendum.”

Though Marcin did not care much for the beauty of the body he was in, he did value his life, “I shall have set sail for the Isles by sunrise,” he huffed, defeated.

“Your assumptions bore me, Spider Queen, as do the artefacts you bring from the Isles. This time my wish is for an item much farther from home.” The legs on her back writhed at the misuse of her title, Marcin slowly beginning to understand that the venom coursing through her veins was far less biting than the disdain held between these two women. “Two creatures from Ionia recently docked on our shores, headed East. A single feather from the plumage of one of these monstrosities holds far more magic than all relics combined that you have brought me before. Perhaps even enough to maintain your beauty forever, such that we can cut this pathetic deal once and for all. What do you say, Lady Elise? Do you wish to be young, beautiful and care-free for as long as you shall live?”

“Your proposal seems to be in both of our best interests. I expect a telegram of their most recent whereabouts on my doorstep by the time I rise tomorrow,“ Elise proclaimed as Marcin turned them to leave, wrapping his coat around the body once again before tracing the winding streets back to the mansion. He didn’t expect much when he woke up the next morning, still surrounded by those same four walls, but LeBlanc had followed through on her word, and there was indeed a letter on the doorstep. Tearing open the envelope, he pulled out a map with a marker of where he was expected to find his next artefact. He was to travel to the outskirts of the city, the border by Drekan, and follow the river upstream toward Tokogol - the route that his prey would most likely be headed.

And so Marcin took out a large winter coat from Elise’s wardrobe, stuffed his bag full of food that hopefully wouldn’t rot on his journey, and started walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> Thanks for reading and sorry it took me so long to get around to uploading this chapter which I started on as soon as I finished Zoe's...  
> I've been busy, but it also took longer to set the scene for this portion of the story, so although I was expecting to do one chapter per player, that may have to be turned on its head a bit  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed and hopefully it won't take me so long to get the next chapter out!


End file.
